“The wind is
blowin'...”Thank you for all who asked about Daughter #4. Judy is back home from
the hospital, but she is making trips for examinations.
I’ve not been feeling very well, nothin’ much, but I’ll be glad when the
wind quits blowin’ so hard.
When I go outside there goes my hat! My grandchildren like to be the ones
who grabs it!
I hope it’s not one of my favorites, it might not look very good when they
bring it back to me.
As I was saying, I don’t like the wind, maybe it will soon settle down.

The
View From HereBy Katherine Veno

Celebrating
your differences...
It is hard to imagine in our very fast-paced world, that each of us has
special gifts that are different from everybody else. This is why I
celebrate the value of being different.
The world would be so much less successful, interesting, and joyful if we
were all carbon copies of each other.
They say opposites attract like magnets. I think this is most likely true. I
have found people who exhibit traits I do not hold, or have physical
attributes differing from mine, or interests I have no knowledge of
attractive.
When I was in school, those of us who were a bit different did not fit into
the popular scene. As a part of dramatic studies and art, I found my own way
to express myself. Our young people have extreme pressure coupled with
drugs, alcohol and temptations not available in school to my generation or
the ones preceding me, I feel great concern for our future generation. They
have to navigate a very shark-infested world while still trying to make good
grades, fit in with their peers and find their way in this maze of a life.
It is not all about the latest fashion statement, or the most expensive
status vehicle, or living in the best of neighborhoods, but rather about
realizing what special gifts you have to offer and being happy that you are
not like everybody else. After all, I certainly do not want to be a follower
as everybody jumps off a cliff. Do you?
I grew up working at a summer camp for challenged children. The heat did not
bother me at this age, so I was up with the sun and stayed busy all day with
special kids. They changed my life forever and altered my visual spectrum of
beauty.
For a child spending a lifetime on leg braces, or sitting in a wheelchair,
or fighting the battle of autism, Down’s Syndrome, or hundreds of mental and
physical challenges, the world is even more difficult. But knowing these
children at a young age myself gave me a very special insight into being
different.
This weekend, Mabank celebrated with the Special Olympics, and what a
wonderful time it was. I salute all the wonderful planners, volunteers,
special kids and adults who did the best they could celebrating their
strengths.
I was honored to offer my time to some of the most unique and gifted among
us as a volunteer. There is nothing like watching a face light up with the
reflection of a shiny new medal representing a job well done.

Escapades of EmilyBy Emily Gail Lundy

Table talk...
It was a defining moment. A group of women were enjoying munching and
chatting. Naturally the subject evolved to cooking feats, failures and
shortcuts to good dishes.
Two or three of these women, not me, are famous for specific dishes. Then
came the pie topic. There were testimonies of what children can do to a
slice of pie, eat everything but the crust. Eat the filling only. Slide off
meringue. They don’t realize the delectable treat missed by not eating the
whole thing. There are salads and casseroles at many dinners “to die for.”
One woman sitting near me this day makes a mean chocolate meringue pie. At
church dinners, diners will get a slice of this pie along with the main
meal, because no heavenly chocolate will be available long. Another cook
makes angel-food cakes for individual’s birthdays or other special days.
This is really a delivered treat.
Back we went to meringues, this time those inches thick. One cook present
asked if one teaspoon of sugar should be added to the froth for each egg
white. She looked my way. I said I didn’t know because I used Splenda. I
added my expertise of adding a pinch of baking power with cream of tartar
for a fluffier meringue. The serious cook asked me another question. “Did I
measure the artificial sugar?” I smiled and grimaced simultaneously, using
my hands to indicate shaking some unmeasured Splenda into the mix. That
produced some laughter, but this was what my family has always accused me of
when a failure at the table came through. “You didn’t measure anything, did
you?” one would inevitably ask.
Then comes the retelling of one of my miscues of years ago. One son and his
family were present on a potluck Sunday at our church. For some reason, this
grown child went to the dessert table and chose one of the three offerings I
had brought.
The night before, I added another food item to take the next day as many
guests might be present. At the last, I was to pour milk into the batter but
grabbed the wrong pitcher and used unsweetened tea.
After baking this concoction, I knew I had a mess. The next morning, before
taking it, I poured inches of unfrozen whip all over the top.
The meal was wonderful. Then this son returned to the dessert table and came
back with a slice of MY last-minute dish.
As son sat down, he had already taken a bite. He looked at me saying he
couldn’t believe anyone would bring such a mess out in public.
Then he looked at my face, and almost screamed, “Mama, you did it!”
Never will I live this down. And why did he choose it when it didn’t look
too delectable? On purpose?
I still go to potluck dinners. Dad usually has a hit with breakfast burritos
or fried fish. Last Sunday, I had a wire cupcake tree and made muffins for
each holder with spring-colored cupcake papers holding each. Only two were
eaten. They were dry but had really good stuff inside. Much food is getting
unreasonably high, but I think I’ll bake half and half. This means buy
something already made and add a personal touch. Risky, but not a dead
giveaway.
As I’ve written before, I would tell my family on the way to reunions to all
get a bite of what I brought (they would recognize it) and I wouldn’t be too
ashamed to get my dishes after the event. “And miss a chance to eat all
those good dishes from Granny, Cookie, Dot and Dink?” This came from my
husband, who does most all of the cooking around here now. I am not ashamed.
He can cook all he wants. And the day he cleans up afterward will be another
defining moment.